Running Scared: Jealousy Makes My Brown Eyes,
by lbc
Summary: This is a sequel to my story: Jealousy: Makes My Blue Eyes, Green. It is definitely slash and complete in one part.


Title: Running Scared: Jealousy Makes My Brown Eyes, Green (1/1)

By: lbc

Note: This is a sequel to the story, Jealousy: Makes My Blue Eyes, Green

Pairing: House/Wilson

Rating: M

Genre: slash

Note: Cameron is not treated very nicely in this story, so if you like AC, sorry!

Summary: This story takes place after James Wilson sees House in his office with "the ring".

Dr. Allison Cameron sat in her apartment . . . waiting. She wasn't quite sure for what, but she was sure she would know when it occurred. She had been waiting since 7:00 pm when she had left Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. As she looked at her watch, she sighed because it was now 10:00, and her boss, Dr. Greg House had still not shown up. Maybe something had delayed him - - an emergency? But why wouldn't he call in his team, if that were the case?

Allison Cameron took another sip of white wine and drew her bare feet up on the sofa. Oh well, Dr. Greg House needed her, and, after all, he had bought the ring . . . hadn't he? What was a little waiting compared to that?

Allison Cameron would have been more worried if she had known what was occurring on the other side of town. The man that she was convinced had finally realized her importance in HIS life was sitting at his piano, deep in thought and even deeper in anguish. Last night had been one of the most satisfying and erotic nights of his life and yet today had gone to hell in a hand basket, as the prevailing drivel seemed to indicate.

He had been in love with James Wilson for 18 years, and last night . . . last night had seen the culmination of his desire to have the man in his bed, again . . . after three wives, Stacey Warner, an infarction, and many, many nights of loneliness, and yet today . . . James Wilson had avoided him! It was worse than that . . . James Wilson had taken down the plaques and awards on his office walls and left!

House's first thought when he had left the bubbly, perky, over-the-top Allison Cameron in the corridor was to question why Wilson had not answered his demand for a consult. Normally, Wilson threw down everything to have a few minutes of real or not-so-real discussion with his friend, but NOT this time. Wilson had failed to appear after several pages and phone calls.

Greg House still gnashed his teeth when he remembered the simpering, even more bizarre than normal behavior of Allison Cameron as she told him that Dr. Wilson must not be feeling well . . . and that Wilson had turned pale after she had told him about her visit to Jamieson's Jewelers. As Cameron told all this to House, she seemed to expect some reaction from him, but he had barely been listening to her since she had told him about Wilson's strange reaction, and then . . . then when he had rushed (for him) to Wilson's office and seen the bare walls, it was Greg House's face that was pale with his stomach churning in turmoil.

That was five hours ago, and Greg House was still waiting. Phone calls hadn't worked; Wilson was not to be found. Where was the man who meant everything to him? House refused to look at his watch, fearful that it was late, perhaps too late. Wilson's wife had taken over their apartment; where was Wilson staying?

Finally what seemed like eons later, House heard a scratch on the door knob. Someone was having a great deal of trouble finding the keyhole. When the door swung open, House was not surprised to see his friend. After all, who else had a key? Wilson entered, looking slightly disheveled and not exactly steady, but certainly still in control.

For one moment, Greg House wanted to walk over and pull the younger man into his arms, but he turned back to the piano and began to play instead. Wilson stood staring at his friend's back for a moment then, recognizing the melody, whispered, "You should talk, House. You've run from me every chance you could; now it's my turn. Running scared, huh? That's exactly, what I'm doin'. Why aren't you with Cameron, poppin' the question?"

With that Wilson seemed to have lost his line of thought as well as his words. Managing to find the sofa, the young doctor collapsed, looking and feeling totally exhausted. House finished playing Roy Orbison's version of 'Running Scared' then turned slowly to look at his friend. "What are you talking about? Why would I want to pop any question to Cameron, except why can't you leave me alone?"

Wilson's eyes continued to be closed; he acted as if he hadn't heard House's words. Finally, he raised his head and looked across at House. "She told me about the jewelers; I saw the gold myself. God, House; you are such a bastard, making me want you so much that I crawl back into your bed, just like I did 18 years ago." Wilson stopped, scrubbing his eyes with his hands, as if he could wipe away the events of the previous night by just a gesture.

"I see. Is that why you took down your certificates and plaques, because I'm being unfaithful to you and planning to screw someone else?"

Even across the room House could see Wilson cringe at the crude words. Wilson stared at House and whispered, "Whatever." Standing at that point, the younger man aimed himself at the bedroom. "I won't bother you for long; I've come to get my few possessions, and then I will take myself out of your home and out of your life, Dr. House."

Feeling the effects of three beers and something else that he couldn't quite remember, James Wilson attempted to walk straight to the bedroom but found several pieces of furniture doing their best to impede his way. Then one immovable object appeared in his less-than-direct path: it resembled a scruffy, blue-eyed, sad, sarcastic imp who refused to move. Wilson stopped, looking up slightly to make his demand for right of way when Greg House suddenly put his long arms around Wilson's waist and pulled the puzzled man to his body and held him tightly.

His face muffled in House's chest, Wilson mumbled, "Whaz this for?"

House pulled his head back slightly so he could get a look at Wilson's face. "Well, I'd use a strait jacket, but I don't have one so these will have to do." House nodded towards his arms to indicate his meaning.

Mumbling into House's chest, Wilson replied, "If you're sayin' what I think you are, 'm not crazy." Wilson looked up into House's blue eyes then continued, "Well, maybe I am . . . crazy about you . . . BUT THAT WILL CHANGE!"

James Wilson tried to pull himself away from the slender man, but the alcohol had made the younger doctor less than stable on his feet. As he tried to pull away, he lost his balance and landed on the floor with Greg House looking down on him. The fact that the scruffy face bore an amused look did nothing to enhance Wilson's frame of mind.

Wilson's eyes almost crossed as he tried to get House in focus. With supreme effort, he regained some control over his thoughts. Looking up at House's swaggering smirk, James Wilson announced, "I'm nobody's bed buddy, unless I WANT to be, so what do you think of that, you betrayer of Doctors of Oncology and Magma Cum Loaded?"

A twinkle entered the blue eyes as he reached out to help his friend get up from the floor. "Talk about a Freudian slip, my dear Doctor Wilson. Could you please explain what you are talking about?"

Wilson dropped his head, ignoring House's hand. In an agonized whisper, he asked, "Why should I? It was bad enough watching you look so gleefully at that ring. I'm gettin' out of here."

At that moment, James Wilson tried to stand under his own power but found a cane hampering his efforts. Finally, after wrestling the viperous stick into submission, Wilson managed to gain his feet, heading towards his waiting baggage. Suddenly, from out of no where, a small box appeared. House's slender hand held the lure in front of Wilson's face and though Wilson refused to look at it, after a moment, one brown eye took a peek, expecting to see a sparkling diamond . . . but it was not. Lying on the velvet cushion were two gold wedding bands . . . and both of them . . . were clearly designed for men.

Wilson stayed mute for several seconds as he tried to find his breath. "Think ya blew it, House. Don't think the little lady wants just a band, and you should have measured her sweet, dainty fingers before you spent the money on a ring that size."

Wilson closed his eyes then looked up at his friend with desperation in his brown eyes. Waiting for House to incinerate the flickering hope that was blossoming in his breast, Wilson inhaled the scent that was House and felt the warmth of the man whom he had loved for almost twenty years.

House gently caressed Wilson's cheek then brushed his lips over the delicious mouth. In a quiet voice, he whispered, "Come on into the bedroom; my leg is killing me, and we need to talk."

The two men sat down next to each other. Wilson sat with his head drooped, his longer brown hair draped over his forehead. He had the feeling that he had made a very bad mistake, but he was reluctant to verbalize his thoughts. He had been angry at House for making an assumption, and now . . . now he might have thrown away everything that he ever wanted by doing the very same thing.

In an amazingly gentle voice, House said, "What did Cameron tell you?"

Wilson rubbed his temples as if trying to remember. "I was looking for you; you know you asked about a consult? (House nodded) She looked so happy . . . so bubbly. She said she wasn't sure if you were back yet from the jewelers. I didn't understand what she was saying, but I just got this feeling that she was trying to be kind and let me down easy. I went looking for you . . . and . . . saw you juggling that damn box. Then you opened it, and I could see the gleam of the gold. I thought . . . I realized then that Cameron was trying to tell me that you had bought her an engagement ring . . . I wanted to die . . . no, I wanted to kill you first . . . then die. God, I felt sick . . . so I went to my office; took down my stuff . . . and left."

House leaned his head next to Wilson's bent face. "I see . . . I wanted to surprise you. When Cameron brought me to the hospital this morning, she mentioned Jamieson's. I went there about 11:00; didn't dream she would see me."

Wilson nodded. "So . . . who is the lucky person?"

"Lucky person?"

The sad brown eyes looked up into the scruffy face. "Well, I can't believe that you've started a gold collection so you must be going to take the plunge with some lucky girl?"

"Oh, Jamie; you are an idiot."

"Yeah, I figured that out when I loaned you all that money."

House gently pulled his friend into his arms, "James Wilson, I can't wait forever for you to be between marriages. Will you marry me?"

For a moment there was no reaction then Wilson sat up straight and looked into the loving blue eyes. "What? Didn't you make a gender mistake or something?"

House smiled, "I assure you, Dr. Wilson, that my medical classes did carefully explain the differences in the genders. I know very well what your basic anatomical parts are, and I like them just that way."

Wilson stiffened slightly, a look of belligerence crossing his handsome face. "Don't do this to me, House. I know you've never forgiven me for my marriages, but I needed someone . . . after losing you. I know I just went back into your bed last night, but I don't want this to be another year of frivolity, followed by Stacy leaving her husband, and you changing your mind."

Anger sparked in the blue eyes. House withdrew his warmth from Wilson's body. The older man dropped his head, staring at his cane. Finally, he whispered, "We've hurt each other a lot over the years, haven't we? You're right - - no more one night stands. I've been lying to you for years, and I guess it's time to end it."

James Wilson moved away from his friend. The very presence of House was a distraction, and if Greg House was now going to shatter Wilson's heart into shards of despair, the younger doctor was going to be prepared to run.

"Go ahead, let's get this over with."

House picked up one of Wilson's hands and kissed the palm. "James Wilson, I would like to marry you. I want to live with you and be your lover for the rest of our lives. I have never asked another human being to marry me, and even though I lived with Stacey for five years, I never expected to marry her. I loved her, but I was and always have been in love with you. Would you go with me to Vermont this weekend and enter into a Civil Union so that we can demonstrate our commitment to each other?"

"Vermont?"

The blue eyes sparkled but held a hint of concern. "Yeah, I've checked it out. For a license fee of $20 we can get a license and have a Civil Union ceremony. It will only be legal in Vermont, but it's a start."

"Twenty dollars?"

"Yeah, well, I figure you could pay for that; I'm paying for everything else. Look at this; I figure we could stay the weekend in the The Smuggler's Suite at the Green Mountain Inn. It's got a Jacuzzi, a VCR and other entertainment."

For a moment, Wilson wrinkled his face, looking extremely suspicious, "Uh, House . . . this honeymoon wouldn't be why you borrowed all that money would it?"

Greg House blushed slightly, "Of course not, what kind of person do you think I am . . . and don't answer that."

"Well then, let me ask you another question, "If this is supposed to be our honeymoon, why would we need a VCR or other entertainment?"

"Well, really, Dr. Wilson, are you planning to have your wicked way with me?"

"No, I meant; I've heard of this place; they've got really terrific food. I figure we could gorge ourselves for the four days and really live it up."

"At almost $200 a night, you're going to eat your way through our honeymoon?"

A mischievous twinkle entered the brown eyes. "Well, I plan to eat a lot, but I guess I could find time for a few other activities."

"Well, that's better. Now how about we warm ourselves up? I feel the need to play doctor with that gorgeous body of yours."

"You certainly are a smooth talker, Doctor House."

HWHWHWHWHW

Several hours later the two men lay entwined in each other's arms. Sweat, semen, and musk mixed together in the room. Greg House leaned on his elbow, looking at his lover and soon-to-be-spouse. Smiling he looked at James Wilson in sleep. It had been so long since the two men had truly been lovers, but so many things had come between them. House laid back on the pillow he was sharing with Wilson when he suddenly shot up in bed.

The movement woke Wilson who carefully opened one eyelid to see what the problem was. House turned to look at his lover. "You never answered my question."

Sleepily Wilson asked, "Whaz zat?"

"Senility must be setting in already. Will you marry me?"

The younger man sat up in bed while giving his friend a mind-blowing kiss. "Hmm, listen, I just don't get in bed with just anyone. I saved myself for you . . . and, well, three wives . . . and a few others."

"Come on, Wilson; I want to hear you say it."

Wilson ran his index finger over the scruffy beard, his eyes full of love. "Yes, Dr. House, I will go to Vermont and marry you."

For the next several minutes, only heavy breathing was heard, but finally Wilson moved out of House's embrace. "Now is there anything else you want to ask, my son?"

"I better not be your son or we are committing incest."

"Ha! Ha! Well, I have a few questions."

"Can't they wait until tomorrow?"

"No, these are very important."

"Okay, fire away."

"All right; what makes you think that Cuddy will give us the weekend off? She can't stop us from having Saturday or Sunday, but she won't let both of us be gone four days."

Greg House's smirk was enough to light up the darkened room, "No problem, I already asked her, and she said yes."

"SHE said yes? I don't believe it. What'd you have to do, promise to work in the clinic for the next decade?"

"No, I just told her the truth; I wanted the time off to get married."

James Wilson sat there with his mouth bobbling open and closed. For a moment, it sounded like he swallowed his tonsils, but he finally found his voice. "Who did you tell her you were marrying?"

Now House's face slid into total puzzlement; his left eyebrow dropping low as his right shot up, "Well, duh, who do you think - - you, of course."

"Whhhaaaatttt? You told Cuddy that you were marrying a man . . . er, me?"

"Well, of course, it was the truth, wasn't it? You know I always tell Dr. Cleavage the truth about everything."

Wilson slapped his forehead as he blurted out, "You never tell her the truth, what made you start now?"

With a slight hurt look on his face, House replied seriously, "Why shouldn't I; I'm not ashamed, are you?"

That stopped Wilson cold. He examined his feelings and realized that he was happy and definitely . . . definitely not ashamed of loving Greg House. Blushing slightly, Wilson shook his head and rewarded his friend with a kiss for his extraordinary honesty. Then he nuzzled House's earlobe while asking, "What did Cuddy say?"

"Well, besides saying that she wished she were so lucky . . . Ouch! What'd you bite my ear for?"

"That's for stretching the truth; now what did she say?"

"She said, it was about time that I make an honest man out of you, and that she would propose a toast to us when we return on Tuesday, and to be back bright and early"

"Well, what do you know? That's really great."

House began to nibble at Wilson's nipple, gently licking the chest that was on display. After a moment, however, James Wilson recovered enough of his control to stop his mate from continuing his exploration.

"Whoa, House, I got another question. How come you asked me to marry you; what does that make me - - the bride?"

House leaned over and licked the tantalizing lips then crossed his eyes and replied, "Well, I figure you got to pop the question three times to . . . others so I should get the chance, this time. After all, this will be James Wilson's last wedding!"

Wilson smiled; his eyes full of the love he felt for the man. Once again he had to combat the octopus which began to ensnare him in loving arms as Wilson managed to restore some order in the bed.

"One last question then you may give me a full body exam, my dear doctor."

"I'm beginning to see a pattern here, doc. What's this question because I'm beginning to feel all hot and bothered?"

"Very well, Dr. Genius with the IQ above 200. What about Cameron; what are you going to tell her?"

"Oh! Oh! Hmmm, how about sweet, charming, lovable James Wilson taking on that task?"

Wilson screwed up his face as if he were talking to an imaginary Allison Cameron and said, "Oh sure, Allison, baby, Greggy poo can't marry you 'cause he's marryin' little ole me! That will go over big."

"Hmmm, I got an idea. Cameron is moderately intelligent. Instead of telling her, let's show her?"

As the two men slipped in sleep in each other's arms, James Wilson whispered into his intended's ear, "Sorry for jumping to conclusions, but you're so adorable I couldn't help it."

Greg House drew his lover into his arms, replying, "Oh brother, Wilson, have you got a line."

HWHWHWHWH

At 8:00 am Allison Cameron walked into Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital. She was upset and anxious. Greg House had not shown up at her apartment, but she was sure that everything would be rectified in due time. She had noticed the red Corvette was parked in the car park. The mere fact that Dr. Gregory House would be on duty already showed that this was going to be a special day.

After putting her coat and purse away, she rushed to House's office to prepare his coffee as she did each morning. She halted abruptly, however, as she noticed two figures entwined behind the glass walls of House's office. It didn't take glasses to realize that both figures were men and that one of them was Dr. Gregory House.

Allison Cameron stood there stunned, watching. House was kissing a man! When the couple moved apart, Cameron realized that the other figure was James Wilson. Nothing . . . nothing came to mind as an explanation for what she was seeing, except . . . No, she could not contemplate that. She had seen House buy an engagement ring . . . for her. Maybe Wilson was throwing himself at House, and House was trying to be kind?

Cameron shook her head at the sheer idiocy of that thought. House . . . kind? House was never kind, except to . . . James Wilson. Cameron began to move away from the entrance to the joined offices, but she hadn't gotten very far when the two men left the office.

She stopped as House called to her, "Ah, Doctor Cameron; I'm glad you're here."

Hope flickering, Cameron whirled around to see James Wilson, standing there with a wide gold wedding band on his left hand. She barely heard House's words, "You make the best coffee; Dr. Wilson and I would like some in about five minutes."

With that, House limped off, giving her a wave with his left hand; a gesture that he slowed down just enough so that the young woman could see a duplicate wedding band on his own hand.

Allison Cameron continued to stand in the corridor for a long time, realizing how wrong she had been, trying to decide what she would do next.

Greg House and James Wilson reported early to the clinic for once. Lisa Cuddy would have been so proud of her recalcitrant genius if she had known that finally . . . finally Greg House took on the task of the clinic with enthusiasm . . . well, enthusiasm for one patient at least who was now enjoying his second full body exam of the day.

The truly amazing part of the clinic duty this morning was, however, that it was very hard to tell who was the doctor and who was the patient because the two men were participating in their own form of: share and share alike.

THE END


End file.
